“I’m not moping,” I growl.
“—I know there’s a good story behind all of this.” She finishes by taking a deep breath, letting it out, then watching me expectantly for answers.
I’ve never had close friendships before, and there’s a part of me that wants me to tell her to mind her own business.
But being here at Jameson over the last several months has taught me that these people are more than coworkers. They’re my new family, and Bebe’s like the nosy sister who needs to know about my dating life.
So I give it to her.
I start with how I first met Sin—to which Bebe sighed with a romantic look in her eyes—to how we fell in love to how she betrayed me. Bebe gasped and got outraged over that, then I told her how I saw Sin in Paris, shocked as hell she was involved in this, and, ultimately, her real story behind sending me to jail.
“And so you forgave her?” Bebe asks a hushed whisper, her hand covering her heart as if it hurts.
“Forgave her and fell in love with her again,” I admit softly.
“You fucked up,” she drawls, her eyes widening as she now reconsiders what she knows about me taking Sin out of the equation by force. “Oh, you fucked up so bad.”
“She did the same thing to me,” I snap. “And I forgave her, so I expect her to do the same for me.”
Bebe shakes her head. “You should have talked to her, Saint. You should have told her your worries. Convinced her to back away.”
“I did try that.”
She cocks her head, her tone admonishing. “But did you really?”
“I tried to get her to leave,” I say sullenly. “Offered to help her and her dad disappear until I could finish out the plan, but she wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I see.” Bebe rolls her eyes, sitting up and planting her feet on the ground. “She wouldn’t do as you asked, so you took it upon yourself to make her do it. Except, the way I see it, you kept her around for the actual heist, but not the delivery to Mercier. You used her to steal the diamonds, but then took away her satisfaction in completing the full job. You used her, Saint. If you were worried about her safety, you would have had Cruce kidnap her before the heist.”
My jaw drops as Bebe’s words slam into me. I had not considered those ramifications when I was figuring out how to protect Sin, but now that Bebe has uttered them out loud, I realize what a supreme asshole I’d been.
I had used her.
I’d let her take the risk for the heist, knowing she could be caught, arrested, and sent to prison for years.
“At least she would have stayed alive, even if caught,” I feel the need to defend myself, but even I know how weak that sounds.
“Really? You think that’s a way to live? In prison?”
“Christ,” I mutter, knowing Bebe is right because she was in prison for years, too, just as I had been. And I’m in the wrong here. Still, I hold out hope. “She’ll forgive me. Eventually.”
“Like you forgave her.” It’s not a question, but a statement… like Bebe believes it.
This gives me hope.
“Exactly,” I say with a firm nod. “If she’d just show up like I’ve invited her to…”
Bebe huffs. “Seriously? You can’t be that dumb. You have to grovel, which means you have to go after her.”
“I do?” I ask, not sure about anything anymore, including if Bebe’s advice is any good.
“Don’t you want her?” she counters.
“More than anything,” I affirm.
“Then why the hell are you even still here?” she asks, a slight tinge of disgust in her voice over having to woman-splain that to me. She picks up her laptop and starts working on it again, effectively ignoring me.
I don’t wait around. I have a little bit of time before my meeting with the insurance consortium to book a flight to London. No clue if Sin is there as George won’t tell me shit, but it’s a good place to start the search.
CHAPTER 29
Sin
“… so, then me mate says to me, ‘Robbie… you got to put yourself out there,’ and so I decided… he’s right. I have to take a risk.”
I smile at Robbie across the metal table, my hand curled around a pint glass, and nod with a forced interest. “Mmhmm.”
“It’s all about risk,” Robbie continues. “No risk, no reward. Right?”
“Truer words were never spoken,” I agree, again with another smile I hope comes off as being genuinely interested in what he’s saying.
But I’m not.
It was stupid to accept a date with this guy I’d met at a supermarket in London yesterday.
Sure… he’s gorgeous. Has that Daniel Craig vibe going on with a wounded look in his eyes. It was appealing to have someone to talk to who might be as lonely as I am without Saint.
Turns out poor Robbie’s wife had been cheating on him with his best friend… and he’s been spiraling since she moved out three months ago.
Still, I have to say listening to his awful story of betrayal and tormenting pain has kept my mind off Saint.
Somewhat.
Not really.
He’s in my thoughts constantly.
For example, since we arrived at this outdoor pub where I agreed to meet Robbie for lunch and a drink, I’ve managed to think of Saint probably no less than fifty times while Robbie yammers on about Celeste and her evil, cheating ways.
“Have you ever had your heart broken?” he asks. Surprised, I blink over the fact he’s showing interest in someone other than his ex.
I take stock of my own internal emotional injuries. The dull pain in my chest that hasn’t gone away since I woke up in Cruce’s car and realized what Saint did still thuds as a constant reminder of what I’ve lost.
Maybe I should ask Robbie to take me back to his place for some hot and sweaty sex that will make us both forget our pain for a while. If I were to fuck him, it would definitely represent a final break to Saint. If I gave my body to another man, it would prove to my soul I could get over him.
Movement to my right catches my eye as I sense someone approaching our table. Thinking it’s the waitress delivering our food, I paste another forced smile on because it’s difficult to truly smile at anyone these days.
Except it slides right off when I realize it’s Saint. He glares down at me.
His eyes shift to Robbie before snapping back to me.
“Seriously, Sin… you’re on a date?” he asks, sounding dumbstruck and pissed off.
A million smart-ass responses filter through my brain, each designed to put Saint in his place for even daring to be offended by the fact I am on a date.
Instead, all I can do is nod and mutter, “Uh-huh.”
“Sindaria,” Robbie says, pushing his chair back slightly. “If you need me to get rid of this bloke—”
Saint’s head whips toward Robbie and he growls. “I suggest you stay seated if you want to keep your teeth.”
Poor Robbie.
His battered self-esteem can’t handle Saint’s brand of jealousy and anger, so he slouches into his chair, eyes averted.
Jaw locked, Saint pins me with hard eyes. “When you’re finished with your date, Sin, I’ll be at the Rosewood. We need to talk,” he grits out.
My mouth stays shut, my vocal cords frozen. I want to rail against the bastard for what he did to me, but I’m so stunned he’s here in London I can’t seem to articulate a damn thing.
Saint whirls away, starts to stalk off, then stops. He looks over his shoulder at Robbie, a mischievous gleam in his eyes when he says, “Oh, and I’d keep hold of your wallet, buddy. She’s apt to steal it from you.”
Robbie narrows his gaze on me as Saint saunters away. I swear Robbie’s hand starts to shift toward his back pocket before he blushes red and slides it back to rest on his thigh.
But it’s clear…
This date is over.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I rise from my chair. I reach into my small crossbody bag and pull out a wad of fivers, drop
ping them on the table. “But I have to go.”
Robbie’s mouth turns down, and he looks like I’ve stabbed him in the heart. “Let me guess… he’s the one who broke your heart?”
“Shattered it,” I say honestly. “But he’s here… and I have to find out why.”
“He’ll do it again,” he warns, the doom and gloom in his voice too much for me to take.
I smile at him, but this time it’s not forced. It’s sympathetic. I’m being as real as I can when I say, “People make mistakes, Robbie. We’re all human.”
“You’re going to forgive him?” he asks incredulously.
I shrug. “I’m going to hear him out.”
Robbie scoffs, slouches further into his seat, and angrily glares into his pint glass. I have a moment’s regret over ending this date in such a horrible way, but Robbie was never going to be the one to fix my hurt.
Saint is gone when I look around, the busy streets filled with the lunchtime bustle. With a sigh, I pull up the Uber app on my phone and arrange for someone to drive me over to the Rosewood hotel.
♦
I hop out of the Uber, my fingers flying over my phone to add a tip, then I rush into the Rosewood hotel, barely sparing the doorman a glance. Realizing I have no clue what room Saint is in, I move toward the front desk so they can ring his room.
I’m brought up short by Saint’s voice from my left. “Sin.”
He sits in a corner of the lobby with a tea service laid out on a table before him.
I raise an eyebrow as I take in the civility of the setting. Saint dressed in a custom-made suit, sitting in a Victorian-styled chair with one leg crossed elegantly over the other. His hair perfectly styled, freshly shaven, and looking like a million bucks.
Like he’s waiting to have tea with royalty.
I crinkle my nose at what I’d worn today. A pair of torn jeans, a tank top, and trainers. I hadn’t had any desire to go all out trying to impress poor Robbie.
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I walk toward Saint, who motions for me to take the seat catty-corner to him. In complete juxtaposition to his suave facade, I pull my legs up onto the chair, sitting cross-legged, leaning to the left by resting my elbow on the armrest.
Glancing at the tea service, then around the posh hotel, I say. “This is all very… formal.”
“You know I like nice things,” he says dismissively, his eyes narrowing. “So do you, so don’t act put out. Would you like some tea? It’s not fish and chips and a pint with that oaf you were with, but still…”
“You have no right to be mad I was out on a date,” I snap.
“Did you fuck him?” he growls, moving to the edge of his chair as if he’s crowding me.
There’s something primal in his tone, something so possessive that a shiver shoots up my spine. I force myself not to enjoy it. “That’s none of your business.”
“It is,” he says quietly, leaning even further into my space. “Because if you did—or fucked anyone for that matter—I’m out of here.”
I can’t help it. I laugh, tipping my head back and letting it out before dipping my chin and sobering. “That’s rich, Saint. I betray you. You betray me. Now you’re worried about me fucking some guy, which would not be a betrayal, by the way, because we aren’t together.”
“I say we are,” he replies smoothly, now casually leaning back in his chair, crossing one leg over another again. He puts his elbow on the armrest, touching his fingertips to his chin as he appraises me. “I’ve been waiting for you to get over your snit so we could move past all this.”
“My snit,” I practically screech. “You had me drugged and kidnapped. You made plans without me. You went all caveman and treated me like someone who was not at all capable in helping you out. You—”
“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly I barely hear him. But it’s enough to stop my tirade. “I’m sorry, and I was wrong to do that.”
I blink, not sure what to say now. There’s no doubting the sincerity of his words. I can hear it clear as day. See it on his face. He’s not bullshitting me.
“I was so worried about your safety, Sin, that I took matters into my own hands and figured I’d worry about the consequences later. I can only say I wasn’t thinking straight. That my feelings for you were so strong I couldn’t see a better way past my worries. Nothing mattered to me but making sure you walked away alive. Didn’t matter if I did. Didn’t matter if I got caught. Didn’t matter if everything went to shit, as long as you walked away alive. I made those plans figuring there was a damn good chance Mercier was going to kill me. I was okay with that, as long as you got to live. Do I regret how that made you feel? Am I sorry for lessening you as a woman and as my partner? Yes to it all. I regret it. But as I’m sitting here right now, looking at you alive, healthy, and beautiful even in your fury, I still have to think I made the right decision.”
I wait for a flash of anger to hit me because while it was a beautiful apology, it had ended with him stating he doesn’t think he did anything wrong… which kind of negates the entire thing. I sigh.
“What I’m saying,” he continues, “is I’m sorry for doing that to you, but I cannot help being grateful I got the outcome I wanted.”
God, he’s so frustrating, but damn if I’m not bloody well charmed by him.
With a huff, I lean my head against the high back of the chair. “How do we even go about trusting each other again?”
“I do trust you, Sin,” he says, managing to surprise me. “Despite everything, I trust you with my life and my heart.”
Heart?
He wants me to care for his heart?
“It was important to you that I forgive you for what you did to me,” he says.
I nod. That’s true.
“I’m asking for the same thing. Let’s start with forgiveness. I’ve said I’m sorry. I went about it the wrong way. I’m asking you to let that go and forgive me. Can you at least do that?”
He’s breaking this down so nicely. It’s quid pro quo, and I’d be the biggest kind of arsehole not to give him what he gave to me. And let’s face it, he lost a lot because of what I did.
I suddenly feel small and petty when I realize that what he did to me doesn’t compare to what I’d done to him. Not that it’s a game of one-upmanship, but, clearly, Saint had been in prison and hadn’t had the chance to see his mother before she’d died.
The worst that happened to me had been a needle in my neck and missing out on a dangerous drop off that could have cost me my life.
I fold my hands in my lap, staring at my fingers. I can’t even bear to look at him as I murmur, “I forgive you.”
Those words seem so inadequate. Sure, Saint and I had both been operating from the same place of care and worry over each other. Our reasons had been—some would even argue—altruistic. However, the consequences to him were severe while I’d merely had my feelings hurt.
Gah… I’m the world’s biggest arsehole. I don’t deserve him.
It hits me… I need to flee. Get out of here. Out of the Rosewood. Let Saint move on to a life with someone who—
“And now,” he says smoothly, cutting into my thoughts. My eyes fly to his. “Can we get to the I love you part?”
I blink.
Blink again.
Jaw dropping slightly, I ask, “Excuse me?”
“The I love you part,” he repeats, now scooting to the edge of his chair and reaching out to snag my hand in his. He leans in. “I love you, Sin. You are my soulmate—as cliché as that sounds. There isn’t another woman I could even remotely love. You’re it for me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want us to get married and have babies and grow old together. I want it all. The life we’re supposed to have because God knows… we’ve both been through fucking hell to get here.”
And suddenly… nothing about our past matters. Not if forgiveness has been so freely given and accepted.
What matters is right now.
And tomorrow.
And all the days to come.
I uncurl my legs, then lurch out of the chair to throw myself at Saint. He catches me easily, suavely maneuvering me sideways onto his lap. My arms around his neck locked in a death grip, I bury my face in his neck where I’m able to whisper, “I love you, too. So much. And I want a future with you. It’s the only thing I want.”
“Marriage and babies?” he asks, and I jerk up to see his face.
And God… that look.
I feel like I could get pregnant from the intensity of his gaze on me right now.
“We’d make beautiful babies,” he points out.
“We could get started right now,” I counter, looking over to the elevators. “You can take me up to your room… and we could so get started right now.”
Saint is up and out of his chair so fast I yelp, grabbing at his shoulders to hang on. Doesn’t matter. His arms are strong, and he strides through the lobby confidently carrying me.
Anyone who’s watching knows exactly where we’re going and what we’re about to do.
I smile, resting my head on his shoulder.
It’s the beginning of our new life together.
EPILOGUE
Saint
Two months later…
“It’s a perfect day for an outdoor wedding,” Sin says as we move into the second row of chairs from the front.
I couldn’t agree with her more. A mild seventy-six degrees, it’s sunny with white fluffy clouds rolling lazily by.
Joslyn and Kynan have been planning this wedding for a few months. They wanted low-key for only close friends and family. Joslyn wanted it at their house, which Kynan had bought for them upon moving to Pittsburgh permanently.
A beautiful log cabin home with a forest-green metal roof and matching shutters, it sits on the side of a hill that overlooks the city of Pittsburgh down below.
We’ve been asked to take our seats as the wedding is starting soon, but we’d done some socializing early on after arriving. Of note, the entire Jameson Force Security team is—for the first time since I started—all together. Every member from Vegas flew in, including the prior owner, Jerico Jameson, and his wife, Trista.
Code Name: Heist Page 19